Page 134 of Ashen Torment

I stop.

I hear a drop fall from the edge of my cloak and shatter at my feet. “How dare you speak of Étoile that way.”

I hear his step drawing closer again, his shadow lengthening across my shoulders.

“Should I have said you had grown jealous, perhaps?”

I lower my head just enough so as not to show him my face.

“Ferme ta gueule, putain.”

“I can hear you.”

Damn him.

I open the door to leave, the cold air hits me, but it is still better than his proximity. With half a foot over the threshold, his voice reaches me from behind, low, confident, irritating in the most precise way possible.

“See you soon. Evander.”

I step out, but his voice remains exactly where it was, clinging to my skin.

18

Judgment

Evander

Irun my fingers through Étoile’s mane, trying to calm the horse, while his irregular breathing vibrates against my hand.

“He’s had quite a scare, Viscount.”

George’s voice comes from behind, slightly strained from work, yet steady. I hear the rustle of his footsteps in the mud carried into the stable. Without turning, I continue to slide my hand along my horse’s back, seeking reassuring contact.

“I imagine the storm rattled him... it was my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, sir. Animals feel what we try to control. But Étoile... he has a great heart, and he reacts to danger.”

I rest my head against the horse’s neck, still feeling the accelerated heartbeat beneath the coat.

George moves beside the manger, his face marked by sun and toil, the scar on his arm glinting slightly under the light, a silent memory of days spent under the scorching sun of the fields.

“You should be careful not to take it too hard, Viscount. Accidents, they happen.”

“They happen...”

Étoile whinnies, my gaze falls upon his blind eye, milky gray like the mist that shrouds the fields in winter.

For an instant, pearly eyes—vivid and turbid—superimpose themselves over his.

The same eyes that were fixed on me in that shack.

A knot tightens in my stomach, a shiver climbs my shoulder blades, and my eyes close, repelling the memory that burns within me.

“Viscount?”

George’s voice wrenches me from that vision. I reopen my eyes and turn toward him, still somewhat dazed by the recollection.

“Yes?”